


An Oath Taken

by LisaDuncansTwin



Series: Futures Series [6]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-03
Updated: 1999-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LisaDuncansTwin/pseuds/LisaDuncansTwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the final story of this series, Duncan and Methos must work together to put the past behind them and move into their future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Oath Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sixth and final chapter of my Futures Series. It is set 25 years after Highlander: The Series ended. Originally written and beta read (by Diana) in 1999, the story has not been edited since.

The cell phone slipped from Methos’ boneless hand, clattering to the floor, the words ringing in his ears. _Who should I kill now, Methos?_

Duncan jumped from the bed, grabbing Methos and spinning him around.

“What is it?” Duncan asked worriedly, but Methos didn’t answer.

Duncan snatched up the abandoned cell phone, but only silence greeted him. 

“Who was it, Methos? What did they say?”

Cold green eyes met his, eyes so cold that Duncan had to suppress the shudder that ran through him. He had only seen those eyes once before. They were the hard, emotionless eyes that Methos had looked at him with that fateful day when Methos had told him about being Death.

Methos pushed away from Duncan and stood up, dressing quickly.

“Where are you going, Methos?” 

The older Immortal didn’t answer, just grabbed his coat and fled the barge. 

“Damn it!” Duncan yelled, his voice echoing in the empty space. 

Duncan slid his jeans on, and froze when he picked up a tee shirt: Methos’ sword. _Methos is weaponless_ , the words rang though his head. Fear coursing through his body, Duncan grabbed both of their swords and ran to catch Methos.

The morning fog had yet to burn off and obscured Duncan’s sight. He raced down the gang plank, seeing Methos’ car, but not the old man. Standing on the quay, Duncan searching for any sign, any hint, as to where Methos had gone, but it was as if the ancient Immortal had disappeared into the fog.

Duncan rushed back into the barge, laying the swords beside his coat, he realized he still held his tee shirt in his other hand. Quickly Duncan pulling it over his head and jammed his feet into a pair of tennis shoes. Only stopping long enough to grab his cell phone, Duncan was out the door, on the hunt for his lover.

***

With only a vague idea in mind, Duncan drove straight to the cottage that Methos had shared with Elena. The drive reminded him too much of the night Methos had called to tell him of her death, but he refused to think about that now. There was no way to know who had called Methos earlier or what they had said to spook him; he only knew that he had to find the old man before an armed Immortal did.

Pulling up in front of the cottage, Duncan felt the reassuring presence of the ancient Immortal and sighed a thankful breath. Duncan found the front door unlocked and slowly entered the cottage for the first time. Looking around, he saw that most of the furniture had already been removed and the few boxes that remained had Adam’s name.

Duncan slowly walked through the tiny cottage, looking into each room, and wondering to himself about the years that Methos spent with Elena. He finally found Methos sitting on the floor of a small room lined with bookshelves. The smell of the new carpet and paint were heavy. _This must have been Methos’ study; Elena died here._

“I found her right here,” Methos gestured to a place near his outstretched legs.

Duncan didn’t know what to say, how to comfort his lover in this grief. He could only stand silent guard and wait for answers.

“It was Cassandra,” Methos said, answering Duncan’s unasked question.

***

**_FLASHBACK-Bronze Age_ **

“Who should I kill now, Cassandra?” 

He’d asked that question of her numerous times since she’d been his captive and it always scared her. It was no longer enough to threaten her life, since she would come back, so Methos had taken to hurting and threatening other prisoners, capitalizing on her compassionate nature. It had only taken one act of betrayal on her part to cause the death of a helpless mortal woman she had tried to befriend. Now when she heard him say those calculating words, she bowed her head and submitted to his demands. He was Death and she was nothing, would never be anything more than what he let her be.

***

“Now she's killing to keep me in line,” Methos said sadly.

“We have to stop her, Methos,” Duncan said firmly.

“How? Kill her?” Methos asked. “I can't kill her, I never could. Why do you think I always let her escape?”

“She killed Elena, she killed your wife. Don't you want retribution for that?”

“Retribution? That's exactly what Cassandra wants from me for everything I've done to her. How does that make me any different from her?”

***

Sometime later the lovers left the dreary cottage unaware of Cassandra’s presence nearby. She watched them kiss and leave in separate cars. It was obvious to her that Methos was mocking her; it was time again to show him just how powerful and serious she was. He didn’t deserve happiness, he only deserved what she chose for him, and that was complete and utter grief.

***

Methos returned to the university the next day, or rather Dr. Price did. Everyone was very sympathetic to his loss and he accepted their condolences solemnly. Throwing himself back into his work, Methos spent several hours looking over the material his replacement had covered in his absence and planning the rest of his lectures for the week. It was after noon when his growling stomach halted his work. 

Picking up the phone, he called Duncan, hoping they could meet for lunch. The phone rang more than a dozen times, but was never answered. Wondering where Duncan was, Methos dialed the cell phone number, but only heard the annoying voice telling him that the user was out of range. Methos worried for a minute about the Highlander, but then laughed off his fear; Duncan could more than take care of himself. 

Since he couldn’t reach his lover, Methos headed down to the cafeteria in the student center to grab a sandwich. Settling himself at a sunny table, Methos ate his lunch in peace, his thoughts ultimately drifting to Duncan, and more specifically, this morning.

Waking up in his lover’s strong embrace fueled the fire that was burning below the surface, a fire that was threatening to consume them. Giving in, they grasped each other, their rampant erections sliding together in a frenzied dance, needing the release but also needing the closeness to bond them further together. There was no teasing, no refined movements, just two halves of the same soul seeking what it had almost lost. They came together, explosively, majestically, their hands clenched tightly together, a lifeline holding them to the present. Temporarily sated, they clung to each other, no desire to relinquish that intimacy, as their hearts pounding in their chest. They stayed in each other’s embrace long after their breathing had returned to normal and their hearts beat in sync. 

Remembered that he was in public, Methos shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of something else. He used his cell phone and tried to reach Duncan again, but there was still no answer. Willing his body to calm down, Methos slowly made his way to his office, hoping that Duncan had called and left a message there.

The secretary didn’t have a message for him, but a package had been delivered to his office. Wondering what the younger Immortal had done, Methos rushed to his office. Spying a long box, he looked for a card but didn’t see one. Slicing the box open with a knife, Methos stopped breathing when he saw Duncan’s katana, dried blood discoloring the metal.

***

Methos drove frantically, carelessly, across town to the barge. He prayed to any god that would listen to keep Duncan safe; unwilling and unable to fathom what he would do if something had happened to the man he loved with all his heart. 

Screeching the car to a halt, Methos felt the unmistakable presence of another Immortal, an Immortal that wasn’t the Highlander. Anxious, Methos scanned the area, but saw no one out of place. He cautiously withdrew his sword and stepped lightly onto the barge; knowing the other Immortal was nearby, but not knowing how closely.

The near door was partly open, but Methos didn’t enter. Instead, he made his way to the opposite end of the barge and the door by the bed. He moved silently, like a whisper, his body tense; he waited for the ambush he felt was sure to come any minute. Before he could reach the end of the barge, he felt Duncan’s presence, very faint but gaining strength with every heartbeat; it was then that Methos realized that Duncan had been dead and was now coming back to life.

Without another thought to his safety, Methos pulled open the door and rushed in. Seeing Duncan tied to a chair, Methos quickly searched the rest of the barge looking for the mysterious Immortal, but not finding one. Pausing for a second, he realized that the only presence he felt now was Duncan’s, and then he rushed to his lover’s side.

Carefully slicing through the ropes that bound the younger man, Methos noticed the bloodied patch near Duncan’s heart. The message was too clear; she could get to Duncan, could kill Duncan, any time she wanted to, he only lived because she wished it. Fear surged through him, making his body tremble.

Duncan stood on unsteady legs and reached out for Methos, his strength, his heart, and they clung to each other mindful of how close to the edge they were, how close to losing each other they had come. 

“Duncan, I—”

“I know, Methos, I know.” 

There were no words to convey the tangle of emotions both men were fighting. It was enough, in this moment, that they still had each other and could draw strength from their love. There was a battle ahead, a battle which might ultimately bring them closer, but could also rip them apart forever.

***

The sun rose the next morning much like it always did; its first fingertips teased at the edges of the world, chasing away the darkness one small piece at a time. With the dawn comes revelation and renewal, and hope springs eternal once again.

Cliches and lines of poetry ran through Methos’ mind as tendrils of sunlight filtered though the barge portholes. He hadn’t slept, had been unable to drift into unconsciousness as he held the man he loved. The man he had almost lost to his past once again. After finding Duncan safe, they had clung to one another, afraid to let go and realize that it was a dream. Countless thoughts had raced through their minds, missed opportunities, words left unsaid, promises still not kept; frantically they had shed their clothing and paid homage to the other’s body. 

It was not the reunion they had planned, a slow, sensuous exploration of remembrance, but a fierce, emotional explosion of two powerful men needing the reassurance that they were still here, still together. It was the fusion of two souls, bound together, forever linked though time and space. It was confirmation of life and love and rebirth. It was a promise and a vow and an oath. They were one again, linked at the spiritual level, and in their bond was a peace neither had ever felt before.

After their lovemaking, Methos had stayed awake, savoring every second he spent holding Duncan, knowing that when morning came everything could change. They would have to decide what to do about Cassandra and hope that they could live with their choices, and each other.

Duncan rolled up against Methos’ back and curled against him, kissing him softly on the back. Feigning sleep, Methos felt Duncan rise from their bed. The coffeepot clicked on as Duncan made his way to the bathroom. Methos heard the shower start; he briefly considered joining the younger Immortal, but instead, fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

The sound of stone on steel slowly filtered into Methos’ subconscious, and he came awake by degrees. The smell of coffee tickled his nose and his mouth watered in appreciation. He heard Duncan pour a cup of coffee and then bring it to him. The warmth of the mug in his hand was reassuring, familiar, as was the kiss on his forehead. Duncan knew that, if given the choice, Methos preferred his coffee before he would consider opening his eyes. 

_Ah, perfect._ Methos thought. Coffee black in the mornings, and coffee with cream and sugar in the evenings.

Finally, having no other excuses, Methos opened his eyes.

Duncan sat in his chair sharpening his katana. 

“So, that’s how it’s going to be,” Methos said softly.

“What other choice has she given us?”

“Us?”

“We are in this together, Methos. Together in all things, right?” Duncan asked, for the first time a bit unsure.

“Yes,” Methos promised, smiling at Duncan reassuringly.

Duncan set his sword down and brought the carafe of coffee to the ancient Immortal still firmly entrenched under the bedcovers. Pouring another cup of coffee, Duncan sat closely beside Methos and waited. He knew there was more Methos wanted to say; he didn’t have to wait long.

“I don’t know if I can kill her,” Methos said simply.

“You might have to, especially if she uses the Voice on me again,” Duncan said, reminding Methos again of how closely he had come to losing Duncan the night before.

Methos said nothing. It was disheartening to feel fear at his age, but it was there nonetheless, but it wasn’t a fear of killing or dying, it was a fear of loss. Methos, the oldest man alive was afraid that Duncan would hate him for killing Cassandra, and no matter what she had done, the fear that she had been right all those years ago, that Duncan would hate him, despise him if he caused her death, still tore at him. It was a fear that was eating him alive and he didn’t know how to stop it.

Her words to him the day he left drifted through his mind. _Do you really want him to have my hatred inside? Do you want him to have the memories of everything you did to me? Do you hate him that much? Besides, you don’t deserve his love. You aren’t worthy of his trust. Don’t you realize that one day, more of your past is going to come back and kill Duncan. Can you live with that?_

Duncan’s voice penetrated his thoughts.

“Talk to me, Methos.”

Methos turned his sea green eyes towards Duncan and took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that if I kill her, you’ll hate me for it one day; or if you kill her, that her hatred of me will tear us apart. I’ve already lost you once, I couldn’t bear it again.”

“Oh, Methos, don’t you know by now that you’re the most important person in the world to me?” Duncan paused, pulling Methos into his arms. “You’re more than just the man I love, you’re my heart, and I can’t survive without you. No one and nothing can come between us, love, ever. I belong to you, and you belong to me.”

“What about ‘there can be only one’?” Methos asked, his words warm against Duncan’s neck.

“We are one, Methos,” Duncan said huskily, making an oath with his simple words.

“Eternally.” 

They stood, hands folded together, two warriors, two lovers, pledging their oath to each other, standing as one to face everything that came their way. 

“And when we see her?”

“We’re gonna kill her.”

It no longer mattered who took the actual Quickening, it would course through them both. 

***

Duncan and Methos picked up Gina de Valicourt from the airport the next day. Robert had to stay another day to finalize all the details of Elena’s will, but Gina wanted to come home, and what Gina wanted, Gina got. 

Duncan stood at the gate watching her plane taxi to the gate. He felt naked without his sword, but Methos was standing as a guardian on the other side of the security checkpoint, both swords under his coat. While there had been no sign of Cassandra, they were taking no chances. They might not be able to see her, but both felt her eyes on them and were giving her no opportunity to face one of them alone.

Gina was one of the first people off of the plane and she greeted Duncan with a hug. They met up with Methos and then collected Gina’s luggage; she kept her sword case close to her despite the presence of the two capable Immortal men beside her. She was a strong, determined woman who never hid behind a man or ran from a challenge.

Once at the chateau, Gina appropriated Methos’ arm and led him out to her garden. She wanted to talk to him alone, about Elena’s burial, and she sensed that he needed to talk as well. Ever since the incident before her third marriage to Robert, she had shared a special friendship with Methos that had carried through the years apart.

They talked for a long time; Methos opened a small part of himself to her and admitted that he was, in part, responsible for Elena’s death because of his past. Gina held his hand as he talked about how close he had come to losing Duncan, knowing that Gina would understand, could understand better than anyone else given her three hundred year commitment to Robert.

Duncan joined them sometime later. Gina watched conspicuously as they greeted one another, she’d been in love long enough to recognize the way they were looking at each other, and it made her happy to know that they had one another. 

When it was time for them to leave, Gina walked them to their car and hugged them both tightly. Gina promised to stop by the barge with Robert after he got in the next day so they could have dinner, and then she watched them drive away, watching until the car had disappeared from sight. 

Turning to go inside, Gina felt the presence of another Immortal; Duncan and Methos were too far away for it to be them, and Gina reached for her sword. Standing beside a tree, she spotted the woman—long dark hair, striking features, venom in her eyes, the woman Methos had told her about.

Cassandra. 

***

The next day, Duncan went to the university with Methos; they weren’t going to hide or let Cassandra disrupt their lives any more than necessary. Duncan tried to sit inconspicuously in the back, but he was an attractive man and bound to draw attention wherever he went. Listening to Methos’ lecture about Helen of Troy, Duncan had to hide a smile as he remembered what Methos had said about her in the past. 

Soon the lecture was over and they were on their way back to the barge. They stopped and bought some fresh pasta and bread for dinner with Robert and Gina. Methos made a secret purchase, promising only that Duncan would love it.

When they got back to the barge, there was a large bouquet of dark yellow roses sitting by the door. Looking for a note, Duncan carefully picked them up, but didn’t find any clue as to from where they had come. While Methos put away the groceries and his secret, Duncan snipped the ends of the stems and put the roses in a vase.

“There are 25 of them,” he commented to Methos off handedly. “One for every year we were apart.”

Methos didn’t say anything, but the look said it all—Cassandra.

***

At ten minutes after five, Robert de Valicourt’s plane landed; they had been delayed upon leaving Barcelona and when he had called Gina to tell her, she hadn’t been home. They had no servants, so there was no one to tell him where she was or to leave a message with. In frustration, he had called Duncan’s barge, but there had been no answer there as well. He rationalized that they were probably together and on their way to the airport to pick him up. 

Robert checked his watch again, _It was nearly six!_ and tapped his foot impatiently; he hated waiting, it was one of the few things that he had never mastered in his five hundred years. 

_Where the bloody hell is Gina anyway? She’s never late._

***

The table was set, the wine was opened and breathing, the only thing missing were their guests. It was a quarter of seven, and Duncan was starting to worry. 

“They’ll be here,” Methos said reassuringly.

“Sure,” Duncan agreed, but he wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure at all. 

He nervously poured himself a healthy shot of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. Methos came and stood behind him, his graceful hands kneaded at the tight muscles in Duncan’s neck.

“Everything’s--”

His statement was cut off by the Presence filtering though his brain. Duncan moved quickly; with his sword in hand and Methos at his back, they approached the door.

Duncan slowly turned the handle and flung the door open. Gina jumped back in shock, seeing the two men threatening her with swords. 

“Hello to you, too,” she said teasingly.

They replaced their swords, apologizing profusely as they greeted first Gina and then Robert. Duncan noticed Robert lean a sword case against the wall, but quickly dismissed it when Gina began explaining about their tardiness. 

“Can you believe she got the times confused?” Robert said, laughing. His hand caressed her cheek as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her.

Gina went to the kitchen and helped Duncan put the finishing touches on dinner while Robert had Methos sign some documents concerning the cottage and Elena’s estate. Leaving Methos alone to read the final papers, Robert spotted the roses.

“Gina, look at these roses. They remind me of your new ones.”

Duncan and Methos both turned and stared at Gina as she slowly walked to Robert’s side.

“What’s their name, Dear?” Robert asked, unaware of the undercurrents in the room.

“They’re called Freedom roses,” she supplied.

Methos finally found his voice, “Did you send us these?”

Gina smiled, “Yes, I thought you would appreciate them. Oh, and I have a surprise for you.”

No one said a word as Gina opened the sword case and withdrew a familiar looking sword.

“I picked this up last night,” she said matter of factly.

Methos took the sword with shaking hands; he didn’t know what to say. Turning to look at Duncan for help, Duncan said the only thing possible.

“Thank you.”

The sword was put away, and they all went on with dinner. The reality of the situation would hit them later, but for right now, they celebrated life and love with their friends.

Later, much later, after a second bottle of wine and snifters of brandy, Robert and Gina put on their coats to go home. Duncan walked Robert to the car while Gina held back and spoke quietly to Methos. 

“I forgive you, Methos, even if she never did.”

Methos’ eyes widened. _She called me..._ Methos impulsively threw his arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

“You’ll never understand—” he started but she cut him off.

“But I do.” 

She kissed him on the cheek and walked to the car. Duncan held her door and closed it firmly once she was inside. They waved as the car drove away.

“So?” Methos said.

“So,” Duncan agreed.

Duncan moved slowly towards the ancient Immortal, the man he loved, adored, coveted, and took his hand. They walked back inside the barge together, no longer fearing the past; holding tightly to the future and to each other.

The end.


End file.
